


we are the foxes

by lesbianbean



Category: Cobra Kai (Web Series)
Genre: Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, The Mortifiying Ordeal Of Being Known
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-14 06:50:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29788083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbianbean/pseuds/lesbianbean
Summary: The new co-senseis get a visit. Things unravel from there.
Relationships: Daniel LaRusso/Johnny Lawrence
Comments: 19
Kudos: 81





	we are the foxes

**Author's Note:**

> Content warning for Kreese being homophobic and also for discussions of physical/emotional abuse.

Johnny had picked up some green tea for his new co-sensei (thinking that was still so fucking weird), and LaRusso actually seemed to be enjoying it. They were on the front porch of the dojo, arguing half-seriously about lesson plans and watching the shadows growing longer on the pavement when LaRusso’s voice trailed off. Johnny followed his gaze to the sidewalk--a white car had pulled up in front of the dojo. When the door opens, cigar smoke billows out, and Johnny can feel bile rise up in the back of his throat. 

“Why is he--”

“Doesn’t matter.”

They both stand up at the same time, moving in near-synchronization, and Johnny thinks about the stupid fucking balance wheel in the backyard and LaRusso describing it to him the first night he had shown him around the garden. 

_“God, I thought my lesson plans were bad.”_

_“Shut up.”_

“Are you seriously showing up again?” LaRusso sounds cocky, confident in the same car-salesman Jersey-boy way that usually makes Johnny want to punch him in the stupidly smug face. “You couldn’t wait until the tournament for a rematch?” 

Kreese just smirks and Johnny feels the same dread he felt years ago when his form slipped. Whatever this was, it was going to hurt. Another man--tall, with a ponytail--climbs out of Kreese’s car and Johnny can hear LaRusso gasp in horror and stagger a step back like he’s been punched in the gut. 

“There’s no need to be rude,” the man with the ponytail says. “I just wanted to catch up with some old friends.” 

Johnny chances a sideways glance at LaRusso and sees the look in his eyes and his stomach twists because he _knows_ that look, he’s seen it on LaRusso across the mat after feeling bone crack under his hands, and on Halloween night when he snarled _I decide when he’s had enough_ at Bobby. It’s the look of hunted prey, and in addition to the usual _guiltshameregretanger_ mix of feelings that the look on the other man’s face gives him, he feels for a moment like he’s looking in a mirror. 

“I’m not your fucking _friend_ , Silver.” LaRusso snaps. “I don’t know what hole you crawled out of but I’d suggest you crawl back into it, pronto.”

“What he said.” Johnny is almost surprised to hear his voice and more surprised to hear himself agreeing with LaRusso. It’s like working against muscle memory. LaRusso glances over at him and the corner of his mouth quirks up, and Johnny flashes back to the two of them taking on those assholes in the chop shop, the moment of breathless synchronization before _you ruined it just like you ruin everything just like you ruined it with Robby just like you ruined it with Shannon just like--_

“Aw, that’s sweet.” It takes a second for Johnny to realize that it’s the Kreese on the front lawn speaking and not the one in his head. “It’s nice to see you two finally getting along. Although I’m sure that’s always what you wanted, wasn’t it Johnny? I know how I used to catch you staring at him.”

Johnny feels like Kreese’s arm is pressing down on his windpipe again, only now it’s worse, somehow, because they’re all looking at him and they _know_. He’s sixteen and Kreese is watching him watch the skinny new kid across the dojo with that old Japanese guy who beat his ass two nights ago looking like he’s putting the puzzle pieces together and _he knows he knows they all know_ because of _course_ they do because no matter how hard he fucking tried he couldn’t keep it hidden and of _course_ this fucking scrawny kid from nowhere is going to destroy him because suddenly the one thing he thought he had locked away where no one could see it is out in the open just like it was years ago.

And then Daniel’s hand is on his shoulder and he’s glaring at both men like they’re trash, and he’s clearly scared, Johnny can see it in the way he holds himself, he can see it because he’s made a business of knowing Daniel LaRusso’s body language like his own, but his mouth is in a hard line. Johnny suddenly remembers Kreese putting his hand on his shoulder months ago when LaRusso saw them together. He remembers the same hunted-prey look on LaRusso’s face, he remembers how he was torn between wanting to flinch away or towards Kreese’s touch, because even after years, even though he still wakes up gasping for air more times than he cares to admit, he still craves that approval like a dog who crawls back to his master even after he’s been kicked.

“If you have something to say, you can say it at the tournament. For now, I’d recommend you get the hell off my property before I call the police.” 

The man with the ponytail chuckles. “Really? Who do you think they’d believe? Kreese has been telling me about your reputation, Danny-boy. But you’ve always been a hothead, haven’t you?”

LaRusso’s hand tenses on his shoulder and Johnny clears his throat. “Fine. We can get rid of you ourselves if it comes down to it. Do you really want to try that? Because I remember what you looked like after LaRusso got done with you last time, Kreese.” Kreese’s smile drops for a moment. “And there aren’t any kids around to stop him from finishing the job this time. As for you--” he smirks at his friend. “I’ve always wanted to beat the ass of a man with a ponytail. It’ll make an excellent handle for me to use when I slam your head into the concrete.” 

LaRusso shoots him a look like he wants to burst into a self-righteous lecture about nonviolence but he thankfully restrains himself, instead shifting his stance just slightly. 

There's a moment while they all stare at each other like it’s _Battle Royale_ , and then Silver’s phone rings. He glances down at the screen, holds it up to show Kreese, and they have some kind of nonverbal conversation. Kreese sighs. “Another day then.”

Johnny glares at him. “I look forward to it.” And then they’re gone as quickly as they came, and Daniel’s hand is no longer on his shoulder. The other man glares at him, their moment of unity seemingly forgotten. 

“What the hell was that?”

He can feel the lingering warmth where his hand was, and glares at LaRusso to counterbalance the emptiness it creates in the pit of his stomach. “Are you seriously yelling at _me_ right now?”

“You can’t--what was the endgame of that scenario, the two of us fighting those men in the middle of the street?”

“Did you have a better idea, LaRusso? Because I’d fucking love to have heard it. All I heard was you posturing like you thought they’d go away if you asked to talk to their manager.”

“Last time you fought Kreese he almost killed you.” 

“Only because Robby was there. If he hadn’t been there I would have been fine.” 

“Really.” _God,_ he wants to punch LaRusso’s deadpan expression so bad.

“Really! We could have taken them, and they clearly weren’t gonna go away otherwise. So what if Kreese has one of his war buddies as backup?”

“Terry Silver isn’t--he’s not--” The hunted-prey look is back and LaRusso takes a deep, irritating breath like he’s centering himself using one of those bullshit mindfulness techniques he keeps trying to teach Johnny. “He’s not just one of Kreese’s old war buddies.”

“What do you mean--wait,” Johnny remembers the All-Valley meeting from seemingly an eternity ago. “How the hell do you even know Terry Silver?”

LaRusso flinches at his name. “I don’t--” He looks around furtively like the men are somehow lurking invisibly somewhere. “Let’s go inside.” 

Johnny follows him into the dojo. He still feels like an invader, like at any moment LaRusso might ask him what the hell he is doing there, even though it’s been two weeks and that hasn’t happened yet. LaRusso ducks into the room he’s been sleeping in ever since New Year’s, when he and Amanda mutually decided to “take a break,” and comes out with a glass bottle of what looks to be vodka and two espresso mugs that look more expensive than half the shit in Johnny’s kitchen. Without looking at Johnny, he puts them both on the small table with a clatter, pours himself a cup full, and slams it back. 

“LaRusso. You know we have a class in the morning, right?”

“Oh, _you’re_ gonna lecture me on my drinking habits?” LaRusso’s giant brown eyes still have that terrified, hunted expression, and some combination of guilt and an emotion that Johnny does _not_ want to call concern leads him to sit down at the stupid tiny table and take the bottle and pour himself a drink. It was good. Better than he’d buy for himself. It barely burns at all going down.

“So, Terry Silver.”

LaRusso shudders. “Christ. Fine. You want to know about Terry Silver?”

“You don’t have to--”

“You know I went to Japan with Mr. Miyagi.” Despite everything, his face softens for a moment at the mention of his mentor, and Johnny tries not to be jealous. 

“Yeah, you never shut up about how you went to Japan that one time.”

LaRusso doesn’t even snipe back, which indicates just how serious this must be. “We got back, and he wanted to open a bonsai store. I helped him out, I didn’t want to go to college yet--after everything that had happened, it just felt like, impossible to think about. And then we got a letter about the All-Valley tournament, inviting me to defend my title.”  
He grabs the bottle and pours another drink without meeting Johnny’s eyes. “I wanted to. Of course I did. Mr. Miyagi wouldn’t hear of it. Karate wasn’t supposed to be about the trophy or the belts, he said. We argued, but I eventually saw it his way.” He pauses like he’s hesitating before diving into deep water. “And then this absolute asshole Mike Barnes showed up. He was in the tournament, and he wanted to go up against me because I was last year’s champion. I didn’t want to, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer. What he did to try and convince me--” LaRusso knocks back his drink in one gulp. “It was ugly. I signed up, just because I wanted him to leave me alone, but Mr. Miyagi wouldn’t train me. I was just--I was so fucking angry, and I was so sure I was going to get destroyed, and then Terry Silver showed up.” He meets Johnny’s eyes for the first time. “He told me he was Kreese’s old sensei, and Kreese had died of grief after he lost his old students.”

“Wait, he told you Kreese was dead?”

“Yeah.”

“How many times has that old bastard faked his death?”

“Don’t ask me. But once he _does_ die for real I want to see the body, otherwise, I won’t believe it. Anyway, he offered to train me, and I was desperate so of course, I accepted. It wasn’t what I was used to.” He shudders. “It was violent, it was fucking _brutal_ , it went against everything Mr. Miyagi taught me but...it felt _good_ , you know? I liked it, I went along with it even though I knew it was wrong because it felt so _good_ to just take everything I was feeling out on something. If I had just pulled my head out of my ass for ten seconds, maybe--”

“LaRusso.” Johnny reaches across the table. He can’t bring himself to take Daniel’s hand, not after what Kreese said, instead tugging the cup from his hands and refilling it. Their fingers brush as Daniel takes it back, and Johnny tells himself that he doesn’t care.

“And then I broke a guy’s nose.”

“Jesus.”

“I talked to Mr. Miyagi, finally--he knew something was wrong. I was--” He pauses, staring at the table. “I was horrible to him. I still don’t--” He shakes his head. “And then I went to the dojo to tell Terry I was done and he wasn’t alone.” When he drinks this time his hands are shaking on the stupid tiny mug.

“Oh, god.” Johnny knows what’s coming, knows it like he knew that the robot wasn’t dead the first time he watched _Terminator_ , and he feels the same sickening anticipation. “Was Kreese...”

“Yeah. And Barnes. They...they beat the hell out of me. They would have killed me, I think. If Mr. Miyagi hadn’t shown up. It was all their plan, from the beginning. To get back at me and Mr. Miyagi. Silver and Kreese had hired Barnes and set the whole thing up. Anyway, Mr. Miyagi trained me after that. I won.” There’s no triumph in his voice. “That’s what happened with Terry Silver.” 

Johnny stares at their hands on the table, and he notices the scars on LaRusso’s knuckles for the first time--thin white spiderweb lines that stand out against his tan skin. He remembers how it took months for his hands to heal after one particularly grueling session, how Kreese held his arm behind his back until he heard something pop. And that was when Kreese _liked_ him. He can’t shake the mental image of Daniel lying bloody on the floor of the dojo, Kreese and Silver looming over him like hunters who have shot down a stag. _Oh, like you’re any better? Like you didn’t do the same fucking thing over and over again. Like you didn’t listen to Kreese even though you_ knew _it was wrong_. “Is this why you didn’t want Cobra Kai re-opened?”

“One of the reasons.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Would you have believed me?”

Johnny thinks back to the look in Kreese’s eyes that night in the parking lot, the pure terrifying rage and the feeling of an arm on his windpipe. “You’re not the only one he tried to kill, LaRusso.”

LaRusso meets his eyes, and suddenly they’re both laughing. “Christ.” LaRusso wipes at his eyes. “I shouldn’t--It’s not funny.”

“No, it’s pretty funny.”

“How is he not in jail?”

“I don’t know.”

“How is he not dead?” LaRusso stopped laughing. “How do he and Terry Silver get to be alive when Mr. Miyagi--” He stands up and walks over to the window, leaving Johnny sitting at the table. Johnny clears his throat. 

“I know I never said it but I’m--I’m sorry for your loss. I know he was important to you.”

“He was more than that.” LaRusso doesn’t turn away from where he’s watching the darkening street. “He saved my life.”

“Are you talking about Halloween? Because it’s not like I would have killed--”

“No, dumbass. I mean--I was such an angry kid, he was the one who showed me there was a different way to be, that I didn’t have to hate the world.” He turns back to Johnny and the soft look on his face sets off alarm bells in his brain. “Johnny, look, as long as we’re saying things we never said--” He held up a hand to stop Johnny from cutting him off. “I said to Robby months ago that there are no bad students, just bad teachers, and that you had the worst teacher there was. But I never said that to you--that I know what happened back then wasn’t just your fault. After the second tournament, I thought about you, actually. I didn’t get in touch, but I wish I had. Maybe we could have talked.” 

He smiles and it’s so fucking genuine that Johnny actually feels something like hope before Kreese’s voice starts up in the back of his head again. _I know how you used to stare at him_ , and the hope hardens into something brittle. 

“I should go.” Johnny almost knocks over the stupid tiny table when he stands, and LaRusso looks concerned. 

“Hey, I wasn’t trying to--”

“Do you think I need your forgiveness? Do you think I’ve just been sitting around waiting for you to tell me that it’s okay?” It’s easy to be angry at LaRusso--like a needle slipping into the groove of a record that’s been played a thousand times. 

“That’s not what I said.” Daniel puts his hands on his hips and for a moment he looks so much like his teenage self Johnny wants to throw up. “I don’t think _any_ of what you did to me was okay. But after what Kreese and Silver did to me, I--”

“What, you think I was a victim? I’m no one’s fucking victim, LaRusso.” 

“The world isn’t divided into bullies and victims, Johnny.”

“Bullshit.”

“Hey, we’re on the same side now, I don’t understand why you’re upset with me for trying to show you some empathy.” LaRusso takes a step closer and Johnny can’t meet his eyes. “Is this about something Kreese said?” _He knows he knows they all know they all know_.

“I have to go.”

“Hang on, we’re not done.” LaRusso grabs his wrist and Johnny reacts instinctively, shoving him, and they’re off as easily as that. One of the stupid espresso cups shatters on the floor as Johnny pushes LaRusso into the table. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

LaRusso’s blow glances off his cheekbone but he barely feels it. “What the hell is wrong with _you_?” 

“Are you really that upset that I said what happened wasn’t entirely your fault?”

“Shut the hell up, LaRusso!” His kick goes wide, and LaRusso easily avoids it. 

“No! For better or for worse, we’re on the same side now. We have to teach a fucking class together in less than eight hours.” He blocks Johnny’s punch with his forearm and winces. “You might wish you had anyone else as a partner, I sure as hell do, but neither of us gets to choose. So you’re going to talk to me.”

“Or what? Are you gonna make me?” He’s half-expecting LaRusso to kick him in the face (again) or to keep yelling or to tell him to get the hell out of the dojo. But instead, LaRusso grabs his shoulders and shoves him into the wall and kisses him. Their teeth knock together and he can taste Daniel’s blood in his mouth and his heart is pounding so fast he’s sure Daniel can hear it. It takes them nearly a minute to break apart, Daniel licking his kiss-swollen lips in a way that makes Johnny want to die. “Daniel, what the _fuck_?” Daniel smirks at him like he’s just raised his rent and Johnny wants this so badly he can feel it in the back of his throat and the pit of his stomach like an ache but he’s equally suspicious. “Are you doing this because of what Kreese said?” 

“Christ.” Daniel shakes his head in disbelief. “You’re such an idiot. Do you think Kreese was telling me something I didn’t know when he said you used to stare at me in high school?” It’s like that Halloween night when Daniel sprayed him with cold water again. He pushes him away, not wanting to hear the rest, but Daniel comes back at him, sharp and focused even with the vodka shots slowing him down. They go back and forth for a few more minutes before he manages to slam Daniel into the door to the backyard--the whole house rattles.

“I’m serious, LaRusso. Shut the hell up.”

Daniel grabs his wrist before he can punch him, and stares directly into his eyes. Johnny can feel his pulse racing, but his gaze is steady. “What Kreese didn’t see—what you clearly didn’t see either—was me looking _back._ ”

Oh. _Oh_. 

This time Johnny is the one who leans in. Daniel’s lips part under his and they hold on to each other like they’re the only stable objects in the universe. And then Daniel’s phone rings.

Daniel pulls away, looking reluctant. “It might be about the kids.” His phone is in the corner of the dojo, where it bounced out of his pocket during their scuffle. Johnny feels like he should say something, but he’s still processing _you clearly didn’t see me looking back_.  
“LaRusso, should we--should I--”

Daniel drops his phone with a clatter. Johnny instinctively reaches to pick it up but freezes when he sees what was on the screen. Someone (Kreese or Silver, his brain automatically fills in) has texted Daniel a picture of a tournament--not the one Johnny remembers, he can tell the Daniel in the picture is older. He’s barely standing and he looks fucking exhausted, like he hasn’t slept properly in weeks. There’s a cut over his eye that’s bleeding badly. Johnny recognizes the way he’s holding himself, like he’s cracked a rib or more. In the background he recognizes Kreese and Silver talking to a jacked-up asshole that must have been his opponent, and the _glee_ on Kreese’s face...

 _Sweep the leg. No mercy_.

He shakes off the memory and looks up at Daniel. His eyes are somewhere else. _Shit._ Johnny stands quickly. “LaRusso, I need you to breathe, okay?” He reaches out and Daniel flinches violently, and Johnny remembers that he probably has a goddamn starring role in whatever nightmare highlight reel is playing on a loop in his head. _Like you’re any better than them like you’re any different_. _Like you’re not a fucking monster too._ “Daniel. It’s me, okay? It’s just me. You’re okay.” Johnny takes a step back, not wanting to crowd him, but Daniel grabs his hand, his giant panicked eyes locking on him like he’s a life raft. 

“Don’t go.”

“Not going anywhere.” 

Daniel’s phone buzzes again, and Daniel shudders. Johnny doesn’t even bother looking at the message, he just throws it out the half-open window. He hears a faint _splash_ , and oddly enough that’s what seems to snap Daniel out of it. “That better not have landed in the pond.”

Johnny rolls his eyes. “You’re loaded, right? You can buy a new one.”

Daniel laughs shakily. “Sure, in the twenty-fifth hour of my day.” 

He looks so much like his younger self, the one in the picture who’s clearly been through hell, the one Johnny injured for a mentor who tried to kill him not an hour later, the one who staggered to his feet and glared at Johnny on Halloween night even though he was outnumbered and bleeding. “I would have, you know,” Johnny says. 

Daniel looks confused. “What?”

“I would have believed you. If you had told me that night. And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry. For, you know, letting him back in. He was bad news and I knew it, but I let him back in.” It’s not a complete apology, not the one he knows Daniel deserves, but it’s the only one he can find the words for. 

“I know he got in your head.”

“Still. I should have known better.”

“ _I_ should have known better!” 

“Would you seriously rather argue than let me take responsibility for some of the almighty shitshow that the past year has been?” Daniel gives him a _maybe_ face. “ _Christ_ , LaRusso.”

“Daniel. I heard you call me Daniel, you can’t take it back.”

“God, you’re infuriating.”

“ _I’m_ infuriating? You threw my phone in the pond!”

“I will get you a new one, all right? Move on.”

“You literally just did that, how the hell am I supposed to move on, you--” Johnny kisses him, realizing he might have just discovered a great way to shut him up when he started one of his rants. Daniel makes a muffled noise of annoyance, but he pulls Johnny closer, twining their fingers together and wrapping his other arm around his waist. His face is serious when they break apart. “Tell me we won’t lose.” 

“We won’t lose.”

Daniel stares into his eyes like he’s searching for the truth there, and then nods. “Okay.” He kisses Johnny again. “Come on. I’m not doing this where we do training.” He tugs on Johnny’s wrist, pulling him back towards the room with the futon where Johnny knows he sleeps, and Johnny follows him.

**Author's Note:**

> the two songs I listened to nonstop while writing this were "The Archer" and "I Know Places" in case you want a look into my completely Unhinged headspace while I was writing this.


End file.
